


Applied Mechanics

by Wonderlandleighleigh



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, crossovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-06 21:44:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18396941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wonderlandleighleigh/pseuds/Wonderlandleighleigh
Summary: It's the Summer of 2002, and Dean Winchester's life is about to change forever.





	1. Chapter 1

They spend the Summer after Sammy leaves up in the Hamptons, which is a weird place for them, but hell if there ain’t ghosts to hunt, and Dean even gets a part time gig at the auto shop in town.

Things are quiet without Sammy. Real quiet, and Dean’s not…

He’s not 100% sure on what he should be doing, especially since Dad’s not exactly chatty these days. 

So Dean does what Dean does. Hunts ghosts and monsters. Fixes cars. Flirts with the terribly affluent girls he runs into. They giggle and blush, and a couple delicately push at his shoulder in a “stop it, but please go on” kind of way, and it’s fun.

But there’s this guy.

He’s kinda scruffy; got somethin’ like a goatee and always wears expensive sunglasses and a worn t-shirt. Zeppelin, sometimes. Metallica others. 

He seems like he’d be cool, except that every time Dean is working at the auto shop, he stops and stares. 

And it’s just-

What the hell, man? 

“What the hell, man?” 

“Excuse me?” 

Dean drops the socket wrench he’s been working with and turns to the guy. “You come by here like...every time I’m working. Without fail. And you stare. I know I’m pretty, but this is a little creepy, don’t you think?” 

“Oh kid,” the man says, pulling off his shades. “I don't stare because you're pretty. Although, I get the appeal. No, I'm staring because you're really good.”

“At what?”

“Machines.”

Dean squints and stares at the guy some more before-

“Oh shit, you're Tony Stark.”

“Hi.” He blows out a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be creepy. I just - my assistant forces me to come here for vacation to relax. Get away from...stuff. I guess. I get bored. So I walk around and...you just…” He steps up to the car Dean’s working on. “May I?” 

Dean nods and takes a step back, watching the older man. 

“Wow. This engine was done for like...a day ago. Wasn’t it?” 

“It’s only done if you don’t wanna put in the work,” Dean points out. “And the owner’s payin’ me real well to do it, so…” 

“So you’re fixing something that by all rights nobody should be able to fix,” Tony says, glancing up at Dean. “Kid. Where have you been all my life?” 

Dean opens his mouth and then closes it, confused. “Uh…” 

“You go to school?” Tony asks. 

“No.” 

“You finish high school?” 

“Got my GED,” Dean says defensively. 

Tony stares at him. “So...but you just - you just know how to do this. You just instinctively know how to…is it just cars?” 

“I don’t know,” Dean shrugs. “I’ve fixed a few furnaces and air conditioning units on the fly. Radios. Stuff like that.” 

“And again, you just...you just do it. You just know how.” 

Dean shrugs. 

“Kid, do you know how rare it is to find somebody who can do this stuff without training?” Tony asks. 

“No.” 

“Rare,” Tony tells him. “Really rare. You don’t live here, do you? In the Hamptons? Where do you live, where are you from?” 

Dean looks at him and then shakes his head. “I gotta get back to work.” 

“What’s your name?” 

“James Hetfield.” 

“Hilarious,” Tony rolls his eyes. “Kid, I wanna offer you a job.” 

Dean stares at him for a long, silent moment, before laughing to himself softly. “Yeah. Sure. And I’m the queen of friggin’ England.” 

“No, seriously.” 

“I don’t have a college degree, I barely have a high school one,” Dean snaps. “If you want me to be your janitor, you can forget it.” 

“I don’t care about the degree,” Tony says. “And you probably barely graduated high school because you were bored to tears.” 

Dean narrows his eyes at him.

“I’m right, right?” Tony asks. “Nobody challenged you, so you ditched and you didn’t graduate. Which means no college. But that doesn’t matter, what matters is that you can probably take apart and put back together this car with your eyes closed, and there aren’t that many people who can do that.” 

“So, what?” Dean asks, bewildered. “You want me to what? Pick up and leave my life and come work for you?” 

Tony looks up, thinking for a moment, and then nods. “Yes. Yeah. That’s exactly what I want.” 

Dean shakes his head, bewildered. 

“I’ve got a workshop in New York,” Tony tells him. “And I’m recruiting younger than the old farts Obie has working in our Cali outpost.”

“I-” 

“Don’t answer now,” Tony cuts him off. “Sleep on it. Drink on it. Whatever. I’ll be back in a couple day.”

As he walks off, Dean watches him go. He stares for a full minute before shaking himself out of it.

“Son of a bitch.”


	2. Chapter 2

It’s not hard for John Winchester to find Tony Stark.

He’s sitting on a bench outside an ice cream shop on a corner, slurping away at a chocolate vanilla swirl cone, sunglasses firmly in place. Even his resting face is smug, which checks out from the glimpses John’s gotten of him on TV, and from what Dean mentioned. 

“You the son of a bitch who offered my son a job?” 

Stark freezes and blinks, lifting his shades. “The kid who works part time at the auto shop? Knows how to make an engine go like he’s being doing it for sixty years?” 

“You know it is. What the hell’re you doin’ jerkin my kid around like that?” 

Tony takes a deep breath and lets it out slow. “Nobody’s jerking anybody around, sir. Your son has a gift, and it’s being wasted on old cars and hot water heaters.”

John doesn’t even know what to do with that sentence. The delicate balance of his family has always been very clear: John is the leader, Sammy is (was) the brains, and Dean’s the muscle. 

“Any jack-ass can fix a car,” John snaps. “It doesn’t make Dean a genius.” 

“Dean!” Tony snaps. “Good name, Dean, he wouldn’t give it to me before.” He blows out a breath. “What’s your name?” 

“None of your damn-” 

“Doesn’t matter,” Tony cuts him off. “Look. Your son could have a bright future.” 

“My son is fine.” 

“Is that what you want for him?” Stark asks sardonically. “Fine? Because from where I’m sitting you’re holding him back. Machines talk to him in a way that’s incredibly uncommon. A job like this could change his life for the better.” 

“He has a job.” 

“Other than fixing older clunkers?” Tony asks, lifting an eyebrow. 

“Yes.” 

“Doing what?” 

John doesn’t respond. Tony Stark may be a smart, rich asshole, but he’s still a civilian. 

The other man shakes his head. “What does Dean want?” 

Again, John doesn’t respond, mostly out of guilt. The look on Dean’s face when he’d told John about all this had been...hopeful. Someone had made him feel smart, and capable, and John can’t remember the last time he had done that for his son. 

To be fair, he can’t remember the last time he’d had cause to. Dean had been doing what Dean had always done: hunted monsters, fixed cars and chased girls. Nothing new.

Until now.

Until this.

Had he taken Dean for granted so deeply?

He turns to walk away.

“I’ll stop by the auto shop tomorrow evening for my answer,” Tony calls after him. 

John Winchester keeps walking.

*****

Sam Winchester groans when his phone rings, but he does his damndest not to let the mood of his summer study session-turned-makeout-session sour. He keeps kissing her, pulling her a little closer as the phone keeps ringing. 

Jessica giggles. “Get the phone, Sam.” 

He kisses her again while saying “no” playfully against her lips, and starts to lay down on the bed, pulling her with him.

The answering machine kicks over with Sam’s own voice saying “This is Sam! Leave me a message!” It beeps pleasantly and then clicks. 

“Hey, Sammy. It’s uh...it’s me.” 

Sam pulls away quickly, sitting up, eyes wide. 

Jess frowns as she watches him. “Sam?” 

“That’s my brother,” Sam mutters. He goes to pick the phone up but pauses. 

“I guess you’re busy. College parties. Summer school. Uh…” 

Sam tilts his head, confused. He’s never known his brother to sound nervous. 

“Anyways, something came up, but uh…” 

There’s a long pause and Sam frowns. They used to tell each other everything and whatever this is, Dean can’t even get it out. 

“Y’know what? I’ll call again. Maybe I’ll catch you next time.” 

There’s another pause, one in which Sam lifts his hand to pick up the phone, but stops. 

“Take care of yourself, Sammy.” 

The phone clicks, the answering machine beeps again, and Sam sits down slowly. He barely feels it when Jessica’s arms wrap around him.


	3. Chapter 3

Bobby Singer is used to receiving calls in the middle of the night. “Hunting ain’t your typical nine-to-five,” he often says to his fellow hunters. 

So when the phone rings at two in the morning, he’s not surprised, just a little perturbed. 

“Yeah.” 

“Hey, Bobby.” 

Dean Winchester doesn’t call often, but it’s always a welcome surprise when he does. Bobby has to admit he misses John’s boys when they’re out of contact for too long, and with Sam at college, and Dean and John dealing with that new development, he hasn’t heard much from them lately. 

“Dean. Hey, son. Everything okay?” 

“Yeah!” Dean barks nervously. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” 

Bobby pauses. “Your daddy okay?” 

“He’s fine. Drank himself to sleep tonight, which hasn’t happened in a while...but y’know. Other’n that…” 

Bobby sits back at his desk, drumming the fingers of his free hand on the wood top. “Somethin’ tells me everything ain’t so fine.” 

“I uh…” Bobby hears Dean swallow. “Bobby, I need some help.” 

“Well, I’m always here to help,” Bobby tells him. “Hunt gone wrong?” 

“No,” Dean admits. “No uh...so…” he clears his throat. “I got this job offer.” 

Bobby blinks, sitting back slowly. “A job offer.” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, cleaning his throat. “Uhm...so...Dad and I are working some cases in the Hamptons and I uh...I ran into Tony Stark.” 

“Tony Stark?” Bobby asks, his eyebrows listing. “The rich guy who makes all the gadgets and weapons?” 

“Yeah. He uhm...he saw me working on cars at the auto shop down here and, and-” 

“Saw how good you are.” Bobby can’t help a proud grin. 

“I guess.” 

“And he offered you a job.” 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s legit?” Bobby asks. 

“Seems so.” 

“What’d your daddy say?” 

“Not much,” Dean admits, his voice going sheepish. “I told him about it this morning...at first I sorta...I sorta made it into a joke but...and then he stormed out...came back drunk hours later and told me to do whatever I wanted…” 

“Not in a nice way, I’m guessin’,” Bobby comments. 

“Dad doesn’t do nice,” Dean chuckles sadly. He sighs. “I uh...Mr. Stark says he’s gonna swing by the auto shop tomorrow evening for an answer. I don’t know what to do.” 

“Well,” Bobby shrugs. “What do you want?” 

The line goes silent, and it doesn’t take him long to realize that no one has ever asked this kid that question before.

“Dean?” 

“I...I don’t know,” Dean admits. “I like hunting. A lot. And I guess I always sorta…” he pauses again. “I guess I always thought I wasn’t really good for anything else.” 

He says it with a nervous laugh, and Bobby closes his eyes briefly. John Winchester, in his quest to keep his sons safe and protected, broke Dean. And Bobby’s known that for a lot of years now, but it’s hard to come face to face with it again.

“Tony Stark is a pretty smart guy,” Bobby comments. “And if he thinks that ain’t true, well, I’d listen to him.” 

“Well, yeah, but what about Dad?” 

Bobby sighs heavily and gets to his feet, grabbing his keys and coat and hat, doing a mental check of everything that’s in his travel duffel and what he might need to grab when he gets to New York. “Dean, your daddy is an adult. He’s not your responsibility.” 

“But-” 

“Dean, I know you love him,” Bobby tells him as he heads down the stairs. “And I know that leaving him is gonna be hard, but you gotta live your own life. Whatever that means for you.” 

“I guess I never really thought about that,” Dean says. 

Bobby sighs heavily. “You sit tight. I’ll be there in a few hours.” 

“What?!” Dean says, bewildered. “Bobby, you don’t have to-” 

“Dean.” 

The kid goes quiet again.

“I’ll see you when I get there.”   
***** 

The phone rings again, and Sam doesn’t answer. It’s nearly midnight, and he’s gripping a text book tightly, trying to get some reading in before bed. 

It’s not Dean this time. 

“Hey, Sam. It’s Bobby Singer. I know we haven’t talked in a spell, but I wanted to give you a heads up.” 

Sam sits up in bed, frowning.

“Your brother got a job offer. A real job offer. A good one. And your dad’s taken it upon himself to...well. Be John Winchester about it,” Bobby goes on. “They’re in the Hamptons, so I’m hopin a red-eye to New York tonight to do some in-person damage control so neither of ‘em wind up doin somethin’ they regret.” 

Sam narrows his eyes. “Like storming out and cutting all contact?” he mutters to himself. 

“I know you got your feelings about your family, son,” Bobby says. “But I think Dean’s a little in over his head tryin’a figure out how to tell your old man to go screw. Since you got more experience in that department, I thought maybe you could help him out a little.” 

Sam closes his eyes. 

“My point is, call your brother ya idjit.” 

Bobby hangs up and Sam blows out a breath, laying in bed for a long while, before he gets up, and starts shoving clothes and toiletries into a bag.

*****

They’ve been in the Hamptons for over a week, and between fixing cars and hunting ghosts, Dean hasn’t had much time to himself. After he gets off the phone with Bobby, he checks to make sure his father is still passed out and then sneaks out of the motel room and hops into the Impala.

The thing about the Hamptons is that nothing is very far from the ocean. 

Which Dean has never seen before.

It’s dark, and the water looks nothing like the photos he’s seen of sun-drenched beaches with white sand and blue, blue waves. The water is almost black in the dark, lit only by the moon above. 

He parks and gets out of the car, tugging his boots and socks off before hitting the sand. It’s cool between his toes, and he keeps walking until the sand turns damp and the remnants of waves hit his feet. 

It’s cold, and the waves crash loudly and he never wants to leave.

Dean closes his eyes, breathing in the salty air before he steps back. He takes a seat in the sand, determined to catch the sunrise in just a few short hours.

It’s worth the wait.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean takes his time driving back to the motel room, prepping himself for the raft of shit he’ll get from his father for disappearing.

He’s about to turn off of the main drag, away from the lavish houses and boutique shops, but a man running out of one of said houses catches his eye, and he hits the break, putting the car in park and getting out. 

The man, he realizes in short order, is Tony Stark. 

“The hell?” Dean mutters as the older man comes flying towards him. 

“Look,” Stark says breathlessly as he stops in front of him. “Look, you’re not gonna believe me but there is- there is something not good in the house I’m staying in. I don’t know what it is but-” 

Dean’s brain clicks to hunter-mode, his eyes going hard. “What was it?” 

“I don’t know! I can’t explain-” 

“Did the house feel cold? Like so cold you could see your breath?” Dean asks. 

Tony blinks, freezing in place. “I- yeah. Yeah. How did you know that?” 

Dean clenches his jaw and then stomps over to the Impala’s trunk, opening it and pulling up the secret compartment. 

Stark stares, shocked. “What the hell is all that?” 

Dean shrugs and gives him a shit-eating grin. “Girl Scout cookie stash.” 

“Yeah, real funny,” Tony snaps. “Something attacked me in there, and you know what it is.” 

“Yeah, I do,” Dean nods. “Is it your house?” 

“Yeah - no!” Tony shakes his head. “No, it was my parents’ place! A vacation home, we’ve got a ton of them.” 

“And who owned it before your family?” Dean asks. “Who else has lived here?” He pulls an iron crowbar from the trunk, as well as a gun he loads up with salt rounds. “Anybody die in the house?”

Tony watches, mouth open. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Are you implying what I think you’re implying?” 

“What?” 

“That the house is haunted. And you’re going to get rid of the ghost with a gun?” 

Dean smirks at him. “I don’t tell you how to do your job.” He heads for the house, Stark hot on his heels. 

“So this is what you do when you’re not fixing cars?” Stark asks, bewildered. “Play Scooby Doo?” 

Dean shrugs when they get to the door, grinning at Tony a little. “It’s not a bad gig. I mean...it’s not exactly salaried. But it’s not bad.” He rests the crowbar over his shoulder and looks at Tony. “You stay here. I’m gonna go take care of this thing.” 

“No way.” 

“You ever banished a ghost before?” Dean asks. 

“No but I’m a quick study,” Tony snaps. “There’s a fireplace poker inside.” 

“Made of iron?” 

“I think so.” 

Dean nods. “Well, I guess we’ll find out.” 

***** 

It takes three hours, and they sort it out, but not before Tony gets his ass kicked a little.

Turns out that Howard Stark had been tailed to the house decades before by a Hydra agent looking for revenge. Tony’s father had killed the man and then buried him in the basement. 

“Damn,” Dean comments as they watch the unearthed bones burn. “Dear old dad was a bad-ass, huh?” 

“Once upon a time,” Tony nods. “He ran with a hell of a crowd back in the day. Captain America and the Howling Commandos...Agent Peggy Carter...The Pyms. He had quite a life.” 

Dean nods. 

“So,” Tony says. “This is what your old man didn’t wanna tell me yesterday.” 

Dean freezes. “Dad came to see you?” 

“Yep,” Tony tells him. “Accused me of screwing with you about the job I offered.” 

Dean swallows, looking back down at the flames as they lick at the bones. “Oh.” 

“I wasn’t,” Tony tells him. “And...the offer still stands. Although I guess I’d understand if you turned me down. Cuz...you hunt ghosts.” 

He takes a deep breath and looks at the older man. “Can I still take the afternoon to decide?”

“Well,” Tony muses. “You did save my ass here. So I guess so.” 

Dean grins a little, despite how pissed his father is going to be when he gets back.

***** 

When Bobby gets to the motel, he finds Dean sitting on the hood of the Impala, sipping a beer. 

“So?” 

Dean nods and gives him a broken grin. “Hey, Bobby.” 

“That good, huh?” 

“Ah, I tried,” Dean shrugs, looking down. “I just wanted to talk, you know? Talk about...about my life. About...about what I want. Like you said.” 

“You figure it out?” 

“I think so,” Dean says, looking at the older man. “I think...I think I want this job. I at least wanna try...see if maybe I’m meant for somethin’ else.” 

Bobby nods and leans on the car. “What’d he say?” 

“Told me to leave,” Dean shrugs. “Told me I was betraying my mother by not helping him track down her killer. Threw the car keys at me, said if I’m out, I’m out.” 

“Your old man’s a jack-ass,” Bobby says. 

“What if he’s right?” Dean asks, playing with the label on his beer bottle. “What if I’m just...spittin’ on her grave?” 

Bobby shakes his head. “What do you think your mother woulda wanted for you?” he asks. “This? Crappy motel rooms, crappier food. Puttin’ your life on the line day in, day out?” 

“You do it,” Dean points out. 

“Yeah, but I didn’t have children of my own,” Bobby answers. “I didn’t drag anybody else into this life. John did. And when you boys were little? I got it. He wanted to keep you two safe. But you’re grown now. You gotta make your own way in this world, and if that don’t involve huttin’, he’s gotta figure out how to live with that.” 

“Bobby’s right.” 

Both men turn to find Sam standing a couple feet away, duffel bag slung over his shoulder. 

Dean blinks and slides off the car. “Sammy?” 

“I see you got my message,” Bobby smirks. 

Sam nods, looking sheepish. “I figured this was a big enough deal, I should probably actually be here.” 

“Dad’s gonna be pissed,” Dean comments. 

“Let him be pissed,” Sam smirks. “I don’t care what he thinks. And neither shoulder you.” 

Dean looks down. 

“So what’s this job?” Sam asks. 

“Tony Stark offered him a spot in his New York workshop,” Bobby says, unable to help the pride in his voice. 

“What?!” Sam cries, voice cracking. “That’s amazing! Holy hell, you gotta take it.” 

“What about hunting?” Dean asks, looking up at them. “What about Dad?” 

“What about Dad?” Sam asks, shaking his head. “Dad’s gonna keep bein’ Dad, and if you don’t take this, he’s gonna hold it over your head that you even thought about leaving.” 

“And if I do?” 

“He’ll live,” Sam says. “He lived through me going to college, and he woulda lived through it if you hadn’t been around.” 

Dean swallows and takes another swig of his beer. “I just don’t know, Sammy. I mean, I can’t believe you came all this way. For this. It’s not like somebody died.” 

Sam snorts. “Kinda nice seein’ each other when nobody’s kicked the bucket.” 

The older Winchester huffs out a laugh. “Yeah. I guess it is.” 

They stand in silence for a long moment before Sam takes a breath. 

“Man, I am runnin’ on fumes,” he says. “What do they got to eat around here?” 

“Oh. Dude. You gotta try their seafood,” Dean tells him, getting excited. “It’s nuts.” 

Sam grins. “Then lead on!” 

Dean nods and hops into the Impala, unlocking the doors for Bobby and Sam. 

*****   
“Jarvis you get some facial recognition off my shades?”

“Yes sir,” the AI responds, as Tony yanks open his laptop and a 3d digital screen comes to life with the kid's picture and a desktop folder next to it. 

Tony opens it and scrolls through the files with a low whistle. “Dean Winchester. His social services file is longer than my arrest record.”

“Which somehow seems impossible,” Jarvis comments. “And yet…”

“Thanks a whole lot buddy. Just for that you can read me the highlights. Let's learn a little about our new friend.”


	5. Chapter 5

They eat a lot. Burgers and fries. Shrimp and crab. And they drink many, many beers. Well, Dean and Bobby do. With Sam still underage, he’s able to sneak some but not much.

“Wait,” Sam snaps. “Wait, wait, wait. Not only did you impress Tony Stark so much by fixing an old car that he offered you a job...but then you ganked the ghost in his house and saved his life?!” 

Dean grins widely, looking proud of himself. “Well...yeah.” 

“Holy crap,” Sam marvels. 

“I’m still kind of on the fence about this job, though,” Dean admits. “I haven’t lived in one place since I was four. I’ve never held down a job for longer’n a month. And now Stark’s talkin’ about benefits and salaries.” 

“Dean, this is the opportunity of a lifetime,” Sam tells him. “You gotta take it.” 

“But Dad-” 

“Sucks,” Sam cuts him off. “Dad sucks. He has no respect for either of us.” 

“He’s family,” Dean snaps. “That means somethin’.” 

“Yeah, well, what it don’t mean is that he can push you around and keep you from being who and what you wanna be,” Bobby tells him. He picks up his beer and takes a long swig before looking Dean in the eyes. “Listen to me: This is your life. Should you take his feelings into consideration? Sure. But at the end of the day, you gotta do what’s best for you, son. Not what’s best for Sam, or what’s best for John, or what’s best for this bat crap mission he’s had you boys on for the last eighteen years.” 

Dean looks away, sitting back. “It’s important. Finding the thing that killed mom matters.” 

“Okay,” Sam says, sitting back as well, sipping on a coke. “Okay. I will make you a deal.”

Dean quirks an eyebrow. “A deal.” 

“Yep,” Sam nods. “Say yes to the job, and I’ll apply to transfer to a school in New York.” 

Dean freezes. “What?” 

“Yeah,” Sam nods. “I’ll apply to Columbia and NYU. I’m too late for fall semester, but I can transfer next spring.” 

“Why would you do that?” Dean asks warily. 

“Because…” Sam blows out a breath. “Because New York has better hot dogs. And more honest people. And I miss weather.” He pauses. “And...I miss my brother.” 

“Sammy, you don’t have to-” 

“No take-backs,” Sam tells him quickly. “You take the job. I’ll apply. And hey, if we’re both livin’ in the same place, Dad’ll worry less.” 

Dean blinks and looks to Bobby. “What do you think?” 

Bobby shrugs. “It’s a pretty sweet deal. Good job. Big, interesting city. Your brother to hang out with on your days off...I’d take it if I was you.”

“And you don’t have to quit hunting altogether,” Sam points out. “You could still gank monsters in the city.” 

Dean snorts and lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah? You gonna help me?” 

“If it’s not a school night, and I don’t have a midterm the next week, maybe I will,” Sam tells him brattily. 

Dean smirks and shakes his head, sipping the last of his beer. “Okay, then.” 

***** 

Tony settles on the bench just outside the auto repair shop as the sun sinks. 

He’ll never admit it to anyone, but he god damn loves the Hamptons. He has fond memories of vacations spent here with his parents and Jarvis and his wife when he was little. 

He blows out a breath, pulling a still too-hot funnel cake from a paper bag and taking a big bite as the car Dean had fixed just a couple of days prior zips by happily. 

Tony shakes his head, and grins when Dean's car pulls up. He takes another bite as the kid hops out and sits next to him. 

“Want some?” He asks. 

Dean grins sheepishly. “I'm good thanks. Ate my weight in burgers and seafood today.”

“Fair.” Tony blows out a breath and looks at the younger man. “So I did a little snooping. Looked you up.” 

“Well, I figure if you’re gonna hire me, you probably woulda done a background check sooner or later,” Dean shrugs uncomfortably, looking away. “And after reading all that, I’m guessing the job offer isn’t on the table anymore.” 

“Are you kidding?” Tony snaps. “You’ve got a natural mechanic’s mind, and you bust ghosts. That’s amazing. And useful.” He pauses for a moment. “Does that mean you’re saying yes?” 

Dean blows out a breath. “Well. My old man’s ready to kick my ass for it, and I don’t have a place to live in New York-” 

“Not actually a problem,” Tony says quickly. “I’ve got realtors who help relocate employees all the time, and if you move for job relocation we cover the first month’s rent and electric bill. Which borough you wanna live in?” 

Dean blinks rapidly. 

“Okay. Okay. That’s a lot. I get it. Judging by what I read, you’re not exactly used to staying in one place.” 

“Two bedrooms, and a parking space for my baby,” Dean tells him. “Preferably Harlem. And nothing state of the art. I want it old, and drafty.” 

Tony stares at him for a long moment, obviously confounded. “You’re an odd duck, Winchester. But you got it. Let’s talk details. Once we agree on all that, I’ll have my personal assistant draft up some paperwork for you to sign. Shouldn’t take a day.” 

***** 

Later, the motel room is deathly quiet, something none of the Winchester boys or Bobby are terribly comfortable with.

But there they are. 

John sits at the small round table by the window, facing his boys, arms crossed, face stony.

“Didn’t I tell you not to come back?” he asks his youngest. 

Sam’s lips twist into a sour grin. “I’ve never listened to you before, why the hell would I start now?” 

“Oh yeah,” Dean mutters, glancing at Bobby, who’s standing by the door. “This is gonna go well.” 

“Just say your piece,” Bobby advises. 

Dean takes a deep breath, a swig of the beer in front of him, and then looks his father in the eyes. “Like I said earlier. I got offered a really good job. And I wanna take it.” 

John clenches his jaw and shakes his head. “Y’know, Dean, I thought you wanted your life to mean something. I thought you wanted to do something bigger.” 

Dean opens his mouth, but no words come out. 

“And Stark is a warmonger!” John cries. “He makes his money selling nukes and missiles, is that what you want?” 

“All we do is kill things. Yeah, we save people, but we do it by killing things. Is that all that different?” Dean asks. 

“The things we kill aren’t human,” John snaps. “There is a difference between profiting off of the eradication of humans and doing what we do, and you know it.” 

“Dad-” 

“You wanna hunt alone? Be your own man?” John asks, bewildered. “Is that what this is about?” 

“I just want different,” Dean blurts out. “I just- what are we doin, Dad? I mean, yeah, we help people, and that’s awesome, but I’m-...what am I? Other than the kid who just follows your lead? You say jump, I say how high? You say shoot, I say where? I want my own life.” 

“He wants normal,” Sam finishes. 

John points at him. “Stay out of this.” 

“No!” Sam cries petulantly. “I’m not gonna sit here and let you talk to Dean this way. He’s done nothing wrong.” 

“I got this, Sam,” Dean says, before turning back to John. “I’m gonna take the job, Dad. And...I don’t know. Maybe I’ll hate it. Maybe the normal life isn’t for me, and I’ll be back on the road in less than a year. But I gotta find out for myself.” 

“And what happens if somethin’ comes after you?” John snaps. “What happens if something comes to get you and I’m not there.” 

Dean grins a little. “Then you taught me everything you know.” 

John shakes his head, looking away. “How much he offer you, anyways?” 

Sam leans forward, obviously interested, as his brother pulls out a small slip of paper and hands it to their father, who snatches it and reads it. 

The older man freezes. 

“What?” Sam asks. “How much?” 

John shakes his head. “Jesus.” He hands the paper back, and Sam snags it.

“Holy crap!” 

Dean is about to respond, when John gets up and heads for the door, pushing past Bobby and stepping out, slamming it shut behind him.


End file.
